


10. The Longest Year

by sageness



Category: due South
Genre: Canon - TV, M/M, Other, Polyamory, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-04
Updated: 2006-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sageness/pseuds/sageness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is #10 in the multi-authored series.  Please click the collection link to "Gloriaverse" to read them all in order.</p><p>When Gloria comes on, all six-foot-six of her in heels as big as Ray's head, he can't look away. It's a different wig, a bright red dress, the same unmistakable Vecchio nose. She looks happy.</p><p>Her song ends. They throw roses and she laughs into the mike—not a dainty giggle, but a full-bellied Vecchio cackle, and they love her all the more for it—for sharing that glimpse of something naked and real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	10. The Longest Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [china_shop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/gifts).



> A Gloriaverse birthday story for china_shop, with endless gratitude to china_shop for beta-reading her own birthday present and making sure that Gloria stayed true to the character she created. :D

Ray stands in the back, in the dark, where he knows he can't be seen from up front. A dozen guys try to pick him up and a dozen times he says, "Sorry, I'm with someone."

Coming here alone is freaky—he never played this scene and he still doesn't really know what to make of it. It reminds him of the circus when he was a kid, and they went to the Ringling Brothers to watch the ladies in the peacock outfits standing on the white horses and elephants running around the ring. All noise and crowds and candy and peanuts, and this place is nearly the same. The girlie drinks smell like candy. There's a peanut thing at the tapas bar. There are spotlights and rhinestones and a big-voiced emcee…

What he'd loved most back then were the acrobats and the lion tamer. Diving off that tiny little platform and having all that arm strength—Ray wanted to have arms like that when he got big. And he wanted to be brave and confident, too, like the lion guy. Like he was trying to be now.

When Gloria comes on, all six-foot-six of her in heels as big as Ray's head, he can't look away. It's a different wig, a bright red dress, the same unmistakable Vecchio nose. She looks happy.

Her song ends. They throw roses and she laughs into the mike—not a dainty giggle, but a full-bellied Vecchio cackle, and they love her all the more for it—for sharing that glimpse of something naked and real.

It makes him ache inside, and it takes him a minute to screw up his nerve again, even though at first he tells himself he's only giving Gloria time to change, like a gentleman, like she likes. But it's at least as much for him as anyone. Then Ray pushes off the wall and goes backstage.

It's a new bouncer—the guy doesn't know him and won't let him in, which is good on one hand, but Ray's nerves are jacked up so bad, he's on the verge of flashing his badge at the guy when Deirdre appears from out of nowhere. In a flash, Ray's pinned against the wall of the narrow hallway, and Deidre's fake eyelashes are about an inch from his forehead. "What are you doing here?" she growls, low and almost-sweet, but her fingers are digging into his biceps.

"Fraser sent me," Ray says, because even after everything, Fraser's word is unimpeachable; and besides, it's true.

Deidre looks into his face for a long minute, and Ray stops cataloging her age lines after about ten seconds and starts feeling like he's back in elementary school with a nun staring daggers at him as he tried to remember how to spell 'neighborhood'. It's not a good feeling.

"So help me," Deidre warns, finally letting him go.

Ray takes a deep breath, thinks about trying to charm her, and then decides he's just too damned tired. "You and Fraser both, Dee," is what he says, and he knows he looks as sorry as he feels.

Deidre relents. "Well, he better." Then she turns and leads the way down the hall to Gloria's dressing room and knocks.

Steeling himself, since he figures he's about to get decked, Ray goes in. Gloria's out of her costume, out of her makeup, and wearing a scarlet robe Ray doesn't recognize. She's putting her wig on its stand and tossing the little stocking-cap thing onto the vanity. Seeing Vecchio's bald head twists something in Ray's gut. He remembers how smooth it is; it still shows off his neck.

Gloria turns, and it's still Gloria, because this is Gloria's place, but it's also Vecchio because it's Vecchio's green eyes staring back at him, and God, he doesn't have any idea how to do this. "Uh, hi," he says.

Gloria's hands fly together, flutter apart. Her fake nails are still on, drawing Ray's eye, but Gloria's glaring at him. "You're back," she says, hard and flat. And maybe that's good. It's honest, anyway.

Ray shifts his weight; his leather jacket is too warm and the room's too small to pace. "Yeah, uh…yeah," Ray says. "We got the guy. It's over."

"And now, what, a year later, you just—" Gloria lifts her chin. "Have you seen Fraser yet?"

Ray nods. "He sent me. He told me there was a show tonight."

"Oh Jesus." Gloria sits down on her bench, facing Ray instead of the mirror. "God, of course he sent you."

"Saw Welsh, too," Ray says, because he needs Vecchio to hear this. "Told him this was the end of me doing undercover. No more, ever. Not even one-shot day jobs."

"Kowalski." She's shaking her head slowly.

Ray looks around for a chair and finds an ottoman buried under a hatbox overflowing with boas and scarves. He moves it to the floor and sits, legs cramped for room, elbows resting on his knees. After a moment he meets Gloria's eyes and says, "It was the only way. You know it was." His voice sounds as low and bitter and exhausted as he feels, and after the day he's had—not to mention the year—he just doesn't care.

"You know Frannie's okay, right? The baby was fine—"

"I saw them first, yeah. Cute kid."

"She is—wait, you saw her first and she didn't call me?"

"I made her promise."

"Goddamn it." Gloria spins around to face the mirror and starts tearing off her nails. "You are such a bastard."

Ray narrows his eyes, watches the line of Gloria's back for a minute, and then gets really interested in the shape of his boots against the glitter-infused carpet. Get justice for your boyfriend's kid sister in a way that doesn't endanger anybody's career or ping anyone's suspicious mob connections…but that pretty much destroys your relationship in the process? Worse things have happened, right? Divorcing Stella was worse, he thinks. Maybe.

He pulls a silk scarf out of the box at his feet and starts to fidget with it; it feels good against his fingers, soft. "It was never supposed to take so long. Believe me, I wanted—but we had to make an airtight case. No chance of walking on a technicality, enough dirt so there'd be no chance of parole. Airtight."

"Christ," Gloria says in the mirror. "I don't know whether to thank you or punch your lights out."

Ray sees she's making fists with both hands, clenching and releasing. The nails are a discarded heap of crimson scales in a little dish on the counter.

He drops the scarf. "Do what you need to. Whatever you gotta do."

Gloria watches, unmoving.

Finally, Ray adjusts his coat and says, "Look, I'm going to get a hotel. Sleep on it, talk to Fraser—"

"What did he tell you?" Gloria says, and Ray knows the brittleness in her voice. Knows how much they both love Fraser and hears the admission he expected. The one he never could blame her for because he might be an asshole, but he isn't a hypocrite.

Ray shuts his eyes, breathes, tries not to hate his life any more than usual. "He said to—he said to come find you." Ray looks up: Gloria's staring at him from the mirror. "And he said he missed me and he was glad I didn't end up dead. Then he tried to tell an Inuit story for old time's sake, I think, but I didn't let him." Ray tries a smile, hoping it looks less feeble than it feels. "And he said you were still pissed."

"Well, good," Gloria says as she turns to face Ray. "He's right."

Ray goes back to stony. "Yeah, I get that."

"No, you don't know the half of it!" Gloria snaps, standing up.

"And _you_ don't know either. It sucks that it took a whole fucking year, all right? But I'm not sorry I did it. We did it _legal_, damn it, because Frannie is not the kind of girl who can be okay spending the rest of her life thinking some kid got orphaned because her own brother called in a hit on account of her, even if the asswipe deserved it."

"Kowalski—"

"And do you have any idea how many people know how connected you are? You know goddamned well that if something went bad there, everything would've come down on you." Ray takes a breath and makes himself lower his voice. "So just don't start with how you had it all taken care of. You would've gone to prison and they would've made me and Fraser testify against you. And I couldn't—do you get that?"

Gloria lets out a broken sigh and leans against the side of the wardrobe, looking miserable. "This is so fucked up," she says finally.

"Yeah, it is." Ray scrubs a hand through his wilting spiked hair and gazes into Gloria's face for a minute, not saying anything. It's been so damned long, he wants to reach out and touch, but—he should've known Vecchio and Fraser would get back together. It's like karma or something with the three of them. Then he shakes himself and stands up straight. "Look, I'm worn the fuck out, but I had to see you." He takes another step back. "I…I'm gonna go. I'll call tomorrow, once I get a phone set up. Maybe…maybe we can get lunch?"

The look on Gloria's face has turned thoughtful, curious, and Ray can feel Gloria's eyes traveling down his body, familiar and warm. She says, "Yeah, okay," and Ray thinks maybe, maybe they can find a way after all.

Ray smiles. "Good." Then he gets to the door, sees the wig again, and remembers. "Hey, I meant to say about the show—you looked great. I like the new outfit."

Gloria softens, and ducks her head. "Thanks."

Ray grins back, thinking how nice it is to see that look on her face. That same self-conscious pleasure as when Ray had finally made Vecchio understand that, no, he didn't get the Gloria thing, but he wanted to—and he'd try if Vecchio would just let him.

"See you tomorrow," Ray says, and Gloria says, "Sure." Then she frowns and says, "No, wait—"

Two steps and Gloria's there, or maybe it's Vecchio—it's been a long, bad year and even before, sometimes the line blurred. What he does know is Gloria's naked under her robe, and Vecchio's hard lines are tight against him, holding him close. Vecchio's arms are as strong as they ever were, but the kiss—it isn't a kiss he recognizes. It's hard, intense, a little angry and a lot hurt, and something in it says _Thank God you're back_ just as plain as Martha Wash and the peal of techno church bells out in the bar.

Ray kisses back slow and warm, with everything he knows about missing the people he loves. It isn't enough—after the year he's been through, it can never be enough—but tonight it's all he's got, and he holds on as tight as he can.

When they finally break for air, Vecchio says, "Forget the hotel. Give me a minute to find my pants—we need to do this at home." Turning, Vecchio opens the wardrobe, drops Gloria's robe to the floor, and begins to dress, skinning into boxers, socks, shirt, and pants faster than Ray has ever seen.

Ray watches, getting warm, getting a whole different flavor of nervous. Vecchio catches him staring, grins, and says one word: "Home."


End file.
